The Country

We wrap her in a blanket, nurse
her with yogurt, drops of water,
anything, force antibiotics
into her mouth and hope
she swallows. She hates us
for our violation, but the worry is too great
for manners. Through the window,
with her squirming in my arms,
I count seven butterflies, fluttering,
yellow with black spots, stripes,
Hollywood to a lepidopterist, perhaps,
but moving to me. Overgrown Russian sage
envelopes the porch, the French doors, bees
float, whole flocks of birds I can't name
descend, together, like some sort of tide.
In the evenings, deer graze like
cattle, unafraid. Again and again, I wonder:
how could anything die here?

(originally appeared in Borderlands)

Requited Journal took "Rain."

Requited Journal took "Rain."

http://thepedestalmagazine.net/gallery.php?item=7735

http://www.sussitout.org/poetry/

A ten-minute play called "Fire and Rain" was just accepted by The 2nd Hand. I'm not sure about a release date yet. It will be online. Todd Dills and the gang at The 2nd Hand have been really good to me over the years.

This was just about the last unpublished play I have. I've got a one act called "Homecoming" (terrible title, I know) and another 10-minute one I cowrote with Chris Fullerton. I haven't written much drama in the last couple years. Maybe I should.

I haven't been reading much since classes started--or rather, not much that I haven't read before. Also, I've read lots of short pieces, but few complete works.

43. Unseen Academicals, by Terry Pratchett,

44. Pulp, by Charles Bukowski

45. Can't Quit You Baby, by Ellen Douglas

46. Beowulf, by Anonymous. I think I've read selections from this, but not the complete text.

47. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, by Anonymous. I think I read part of this in high school.

I have several things I'm reviewing that I haven't read yet.

Recently, an editor for the Foundling Review asked me to write commentaries for several selections from their forthcoming issue. The issue is live with my commentaries here.

I've seen the greatest minds of my generation destroyed by Newman-O's, Dr. Browns Black Cherry soda, Morningstar meatless hotdogs on gluten free buns. Java-logs keep the townhouse warm through the slight coolness of winter. We keep the windows open for ventilation (we have alergies, after all). Our TVs are large and flat, perfect for playing video games and watching cancelled TV shows on DVD. We are fat, flacid, bored, until the pills kick in. Worth is demonstrated through the accumulation of opionions. Right now: I'm updating my Twitter page. Right now: I'm sexting my girlfriend. Right now: I'm doing nothing.

http://www.ilrmagazine.net/dsound/issue15_ds1.php

http://www.subtletea.com/CLbledsoe2009.htm

"The Bank," a poem from RICELAND, was accepted by the Smoking Poet.
Several poems accepted by Rivets Literary Magazine.
Lots of rejections as well.